Page 18 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

His finger was bleeding, his confidence was shattered, and he was as hard as a rock.

Fuck, he was in trouble. He knew he was coming on too strong, but Harrison didn’t appear put off by his ogling or obnoxious flirting. If anything, he was playing into it.

He didn’t want that to be the case, but it was hard to believe that a man like Harrison would have any interest in a moron like him. He couldn’t cut potatoes without hurting himself for Christ’s sake.

“Good boy,” Harrison said, his voice low enough to be a purr. “See how easy it is not to hurt yourself when you stay put?”

Jett wanted to respond, but he hadn’t regained the use of his tongue, so he nodded instead.

His response made Harrison chuckle, and then he was beside him again, holding his injured hand and inspecting the damage.

Jett was disappointed that Harrison had chosen not to slot his giant body between his thighs again, but the hand-holding was nice too.

“It’s a small nick, so I’ll glue it if that’s okay?”

Jett hadn’t heard him because he was too busy getting lost in the blue of those intense eyes.

More chuckling brought him back to Earth, and Jett startled and shook his head. “Damnit, yes. The glue is fine. ”

Harrison kept smiling as he used an alcohol wipe to clean the cut, which stung like a bitch, and then applied the wound glue to seal the small cut.

When the wound was taken care of, Harrison cleaned the blood droplets from the floor and counter, and then used a warm towel to wipe the remaining blood off Jett’s arm.

It was weird—and hot. Jett felt taken care of, and he knew that was dumb because Harrison was bossing him around and treating him like a kid, but it was a vibe.

A daddy vibe . Jesus, was he discovering a new kink about himself? He didn’t typically like being told what to do, but when Harrison ordered him to do something, his heart got all fluttery when he chose to obey.

And the way Harrison’s eyes locked onto him whenever he saw Jett willingly comply told him he liked it too.

“Thanks,” said Jett, wiggling his sore finger to get Harrison’s attention on him. “Sorry for ruining supper. I was trying to contribute more, so I didn’t feel like such a freeloader, but I might stick to laundry.”

Harrison hummed and closed the med kit, brows furrowing at the countertop. “Honestly, I’m worried you might catch the dryer on fire. You need a babysitter to function. It was potatoes , Jett.”

“I know , ” said Jett through pressed lips. He jumped down from the counter and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to rub it in, man. Let’s just make something and forget this ever happened.”

He made it one step before being lifted onto the counter again, and Harrison was caging him in with his gorgeous, muscled arms.

“Did I say you could move?”

Jett sucked in a breath and held it. He was too shocked to do anything else.

“ I’m going to cook,” said Harrison, and he leaned into Jett’s space, pinning him. “And you’re going to help me by sitting here and looking pretty.”

Jett could feel his pulse beating rapidly in his sore finger and his dick, a steady thrum both good and painful. There was no way that Harrison couldn’t feel how hard he was, but the man appeared indifferent to the situation.

“Are you hearing what I’m telling you, Fraser? ”

He was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, so Jett let go of the breath he was holding and tried not to sound too breathless when he answered. “I heard you.”

Harrison’s glance at his lips was subtle, but they were standing so close that Jett caught it. “And what did I tell you to do?” Harrison asked, shifting his body closer to Jett to apply the slightest amount of friction.

Jett bit back a whimper and squeezed his eyes shut. “You told me to sit here and look pretty.”

And just like that, Harrison pulled away.

“Good. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll make us chicken and pasta.” Harrison smirked as he strolled to the fridge. “I’m not in the mood for potatoes after everything I witnessed, so let’s switch it up.”

Jett readjusted the bulge in his sweats the second Harrison turned away, in an attempt to preserve some of his modesty. His head was empty of thoughts and feelings, because the only thing it could focus on was the realization that Harrison was interested in him.

So, he wasn’t imagining things, but there was a difference between being interested and acting on it. Jett knew he had to follow Harrison’s pace, whether it was friendship or anything else, and he didn’t know if a week and a half would be long enough to accomplish anything .

In the end, he would be happy if he walked away with Killinger’s number and a boot-print on his ass when he eventually got kicked out. Sometimes he was still confused when he woke up and realized he was sleeping in Harrison’s guest room, so the flirting and heated looks were blowing his mind.

He needed to get his phone and text Arlo for advice, but he had been instructed not to move, and he didn’t know what would happen if he disobeyed.

Oh god, would Harrison spank him?

No. That was dumb. They were barely on a first-name basis right now. He needed to get a grip on his stupid brain and his dumb cock before they began taking control.

“Chicken Alfredo is good, right?”

“Yup!”

Jett’s high-pitched answer earned him a crinkled expression of confusion .

“You okay, buddy?” Harrison asked, and he knew damn-well what he was doing to Jett right now.

“I’m hungry,” said Jett, and he offered no other explanation.

Harrison smiled the entire time he prepped and cooked. He looked so cool and casual, cutting and frying the food, making it look easy.

And because he was an asshole, he made sure to shoot Jett looks when he was opening bottles or cutting chicken, like he was trying to prove how one could accomplish those tasks without getting hurt.

Jett scoffed and kicked his feet because there was nothing else to do. It was either focus on the motion or focus on Harrison, and since his dick had finally settled down, he didn’t want to risk the second one.

“Hey,” said Harrison, sliding himself between Jett’s legs in a way that felt natural. “Can you taste this?”

He was lifting a fork with pasta and sauce toward Jett’s mouth, like a baby in a highchair being forced to eat.

Jett didn’t want to play along, but Harrison wasn’t giving him any choice. He grumbled and opened his mouth, only for Harrison to pull back.

His eyes were locked onto Jett’s mouth with a familiar Killinger intensity, and Jett felt sparks of want prickle his skin.

“ Blow ,” Harrison said quietly.

Jett opened his mouth and softly blew on the pasta—so enthralled by the different blues in Harrison’s eyes that he didn’t register the fork being pushed into his mouth until there was an explosion of flavour on his tongue.

Harrison’s gaze flicked up to meet his when he pulled the fork away, and there was a moment when Jett thought he might lean in for a kiss, but then he moved back

“Is it any good?” he asked Jett.

Jett chewed and swallowed, nodding his head in answer. “Very good. The best.”

Killinger smirked and returned to the stove, allowing Jett a second to catch his breath.

He had a feeling that Harrison knew he wasn’t talking about the food.

When Harrison finished, he was permitted to get off the counter. Jett grabbed his plate and made a beeline for his phone on the couch. He watched Harrison from the corner of his eye as he sat in his recliner, letting out a long, exhausted sigh as he settled with his heating pad.

Jett: Dude, your cousin is a lustful noodle demon.

While waiting for Arlo to answer, he shoved several forkfuls of pasta into his mouth, barely chewing before moving on to the next.

Arlo: What the fuck are you guys doing over there? It can’t be this fucking hard to make a meal without dying or fucking each other.

Jett: Whatever. I’m freaking out so forgive me for not being coordinated enough to peel a potato.

Arlo: What is Harrison doing, exactly?

Jett shot a look at the bearded, grumpy man nearby, who looked fully engrossed in his boring news channel.

Jett: He’s doing everything. He had me pinned against the counter like, three times. Is he into me?

Arlo: No way, he was probably trying to reach something above you.

Jett frowned.

Jett: I was sitting on the island, so nothing was above me.

Arlo: And I was being sarcastic, Jetty. Obviously he’s into you because I’ve never seen Harrison TOUCH another person, let alone pin them in a sexy way.

Arlo: It was in the sexy way, right?

Jett felt his cheeks warm thinking about it.

Jett: Yeah, it was…sexy. He tended to my wounds and made me blow on his pasta.

Arlo: …

Arlo: Okay, gross. Didn’t need to know that.

Jett ignored him.

Jett: Has he ever…had a boyfriend or anything?

Arlo took a second to text back, giving Jett more time to eat.

Arlo: No boyfriends, but he knows how to fuck if that’s what you’re wondering. I heard from my teammates about one of the older players and how Harrison fucked his brains out in his car.

Jett inhaled too quickly and choked on a noodle. He had to hit his chest to get it dislodged from his lung so he didn’t die .

Arlo: I will never emotionally recover from those stories, and the guys fucking knew it too.

Jett put his phone down before he blew a blood vessel. He could tell Harrison was looking at him, but he kept his eyes on the TV. The story about traffic and accidents on the bridges didn’t draw his attention, but as long as it kept him from looking at Harrison right now—

“Is everything okay?” Harrison asked, making Jett jump.

“Everything is fine,” Jett said too quickly. “Just peachy .”

He was going to need a cold shower after this. That and a fuck-ton of Ativan.